


Scarlet Goddess

by amaryllises



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, what the fuck is reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 06:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13875075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaryllises/pseuds/amaryllises
Summary: Shirogane lets herself be unseen to all but one.





	Scarlet Goddess

Number 201 speaks too enthusiastically; he’s too excited. He eagerly talks about doing dangerous acts, some minor, and some major. It’s obvious he’s only pretending to be such a character, judging by the way he simply shrugs when Shirogane instructs the guards to escort him back outside. He’s not even  _ that _ passionate.

 

Shirogane has seen so many of those faux-leaders, the protagonists with the same carbon-copy ‘twist’, like what had been dangerously pulled in the 37th season. She’s grown accustomed to the death threats and crying and the guilt tripping that happens inside the interview room. 

 

Now, she simply takes a big gulp from her water bottle, and slams it down, not bothering to cap it. Water spills all over his application, ruining it beyond comprehension.

 

“Jesus, that guy was fucking annoying,” Sasaki snorts over the intercom. The room is built like an interrogation center at a police station: dark, trapping, with a one way mirror looking in. Designed specifically to test the participants under pressure, to weed out the weak.

 

“Yeah.” Shirogane stretches her arms above her head, combing a lock of hair in a fluid motion. “I get over a hundred of them daily. You know, we should’ve never hyped up the financial analyst that much.”

 

“Nah, that was our most popular season.” There’s a small shuffling noise. “Oh, shit. It’s six. Call it a day?”

 

“Hmm…” Shirogane yawns. “I guess I’m in the mood for another one. If it’s another Ishikawa wannabe, I’m kicking them out.”

 

“Alrighty,” Sasaki responds. “Number 202 it is.”

 

\---

 

Number 202 has glossy brown hair that runs straight down her back and pools at the base of the chair when she sits across from Shirogane almost immediately after entering. She picks at her cuticles. Shirogane can see the tip of her nails, chewed beyond repair.

 

“Hello,” Shirogane says.

 

The girl nervously glances upwards, and Shirogane can see a glimpse of crimson eyes beneath the bangs that cover her face. “Hello, Sh-Shirogane-sama.”

 

“ ‘Sama’? You mustn’t be so formal,” Shirogane laughs.

 

The girl nervously laughs as well, though, Shirogane could see it was more complaisant than genuine. “I apologize… but, you  _ are _ my idol, after all.”

 

“Oh? Me?” Shirogane’s interest is piqued, and she leans forward on the table. “Why me? Why not somebody else, like Iidabashi — genius man, by the way —, or one of the cast members from previous seasons?”

 

202 twirls a section of hair around her fingers, casting, before letting it unravel. She seems to be carefully picking a response; trying to get as many brownie points as possible. “I admire how you’re always in the shadows… you do so much for the cast, yet you get no recognition. I can… I can relate to that, I think.”

 

“It’s not exactly pleasant for me. My name’s in fine print, even in the credits,” Shirogane lists, before clasping her hands together. “So! Why might you want to join Danganronpa?”

 

“I want to leave my orphanage,” 202 responds almost immediately. “It’s awful there. Everybody is ‘collected’ and treated as inanimate objects.”

 

“Jumping right into the sob story, no? We get many of those, unfortunately. You might need more than that.”

 

202’s cheeks puff red. “I  _ know _ it’s true, and I even brought proof, if you need it.”

 

Timid, yet easy to provoke. Hostile, but frustrated. Emotionally, and possibly physically broken; Shirogane can see the silhouette of her gangly, thin arms inside the sleeves of her black sweater. It wouldn't take more than a wisp of wind to break her in, to crush all her dreams and create the true despair that Danganronpa had failed to even create the skeleton for.

 

“I suppose I must show you out now,” Shirogane sighs, pretending to seem uninterested. She waves her hand, as if waving off the giddiness in her chest. 

 

202’s face falls. Her hands clench by her side, as if restraining herself from fighting back. “I-I… thank you for the opportunity, Shirogane. Sama,” she adds, after a pause. 202 brushes off her black jeans, and heads out the door, slamming it in place.

 

“That one’s a no-go too?” Sasaki asks, after the tiny tremors stop. “Seems too scared ‘n shit.”

 

“Hmm… send her a letter.”

 

\---

 

Shirogane calmly washes off the blood that splatters on her face and on parts of her hair. The red contrasts the blue, then it runs down the sink a diluted pink, so unsaturated that even she mistakes it for simple water. Shirogane wrings out her hair with a paper towel, and throws it offhandedly into the trash can. 

 

She takes her time. Leisurely, she retrieves a tube of lip balm and applies it to her chapped lips. Any time now… 

 

She puts the lip balm back in her pocket, unfamiliar with the absence of the shot put ball.

 

\---

 

“Hello.” Shirogane smiles when she opens the cafeteria tour, giving a small curtsy. “Sorry I took such a long time. It was plainly disrespectful.”

 

\---

 

Shirogane is a cosplayer. Actually— Tsumugi is. That’s why she’s able to get into character. From animes  _ she  _ helped to design, to something minor, like roles she were paid to campaign, she instantly melds herself to become them. Their backstory, their memory. Shirogane is unseen and hides in plain sight, but the Super High School Level Cosplayer is anybody. 

 

Shirogane feels a sense of exhilarating joy when she runs to the library after the body announcement. Adrenaline pumps in her chest for all the wrong reasons.

 

She hopes the camera would catch everyone’s expression as the crumpled body of Amami Rantarou is revealed behind the bookcase.

 

National heartthrob; funny and powerful. Wealthy. And now, Sasaki Souta, perhaps her only competition, lays down dead in front of her, blood not even dry enough to crust on the library floor. 

Shirogane bursts out into gleeful laughter, imagining the despair on the fervent viewers’ faces.

 

Tsumugi holds it back by replacing it with a sob and clutching at her chest.

 

\---

 

Shirogane can see the panic on Harukawa’s face when Monokuma announces there’s a new story, even when she disguises it as a cough.

 

Nobody notices, of course. But Shirogane knows Harukawa would shrink away from the group, and run to the second floor as quickly as possible. 

 

If she breaks the script, she better make it goddamn perfect.

 

That is why she comes right before nighttime, at precisely nine-thirty, when nobody — except maybe Saihara and Momota — would ever dare to go outside. As expected, Toujou stands guard inside, polishing already clean dishes to perfection. 

 

“Oh! Toujou-san! What a surprise; I haven’t expected you to be here!” Shirogane gasps.

 

“Hello, Shirogane-san,” Toujou says, her back turned. “What might you be doing this late?”

 

“Oh, I’m just plainly hungry,” she lilts, smiling warmly at nothing. Being in character was more important than convenience. “I was just going to grab a few crackers and leave.”

 

“Surely, that is not all you will eat?” Toujou turns around, and frowns. “Here. I will fix something for you.”

 

“Oh, that would not be—” Shirogane is interrupted by a platter pressed in her hands. An apple, saltine crackers, water, bottled juice and water. Now that the motive videos were out, surely not by mistake, she decides to poke some fun. “Thank you, Toujou-san. You must’ve been quite an _ important person _ .”

 

Toujou does not move. “My pleasure.”

\---

 

When Shirogane places the platter on her head and walks forward; chest upward in incredible grace; her spine as stiff as can be, she is a princess, like Sonia Nevermind, a popular character from when Danganronpa was still a video game. 

 

When Shirogane balances the platter on one hand and twirls and dances in the air, her blue skirt swishing around her legs, certainly more offering more mobility than a kimono, she is Saionji Hiyoko.

 

When Shirogane adjusts her glasses up with only her middle finger; platter parallel to her chest; haughtily walking through the hallway on her tiptoes to make herself appear taller, she is Togami Byakuya.

 

But when Shirogane shrinks her shoulders and places her platter close to her stomach, holding it with both hands, she is Tsumugi. A boring cosplayer.

 

A boring cosplayer who knocks on a large red door, with almost a quilted pattern to the outside. When there is no response, Shirogane knocks again and again, until the door only opens a sliver to not expose anything inside. Not like it’d be necessary. She can see a predator’s red eye gleam, with a teeny beauty mark underneath.

 

Shirogane does not speak. 

 

“What?” Harukawa asks, her eye narrowing. “What do  _ you _ want?”

 

“Well, to put it plainly,” Shirogane starts, gulping, “I couldn’t fathom how you could not be hungry if you haven’t eaten for an entire day. So, I asked Toujou-san to make something for you. I… I didn’t know what you liked” (that was a lie, Shirogane had memorized 202’s entire character profile; she can almost recite it by heart) “so I only have some plain stuff.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but if you wanna come inside, beat it. I’m not hungry, anyways.” A lie. As if on cue, Harukawa’s stomach growls right after.

 

Shirogane lifts an eyebrow. “Plainly, you don’t seem to not be hungry. I’m only concerned for you.”

 

Harukawa is silent for a few seconds, before she speaks up, throwing away her defiance. “Whatever,” she mumbles. “Just leave it outside. And go away.”

 

“I could always just give it to you—”

 

“No. Go away,” Harukawa says stubbornly. 

 

She concedes, “of course! Anything you’re comfortable with.” 

 

“Comfortable with?” Harukawa says in a bewildered tone, as if it were a foreign concept. 

 

“Yeah! Like boundaries—”

 

“I know what that means,” Harukawa interrupts. She closes the door shut entirely. Shirogane can hear the faint sound of a deep breath. “... Thanks.”

 

“Um… Harukawa-san, does that mean we’re friends now?”

 

“You’d be an idiot — like Momota — to even think of friendship in a situation like this,” Harukawa snorts. “Go away. I’m hungry.”

 

\---

 

Shirogane is not surprised after the second trial. Everything goes according to plan. She can tell the expression Ouma Kokichi keeps cleverly hidden beneath layers of deceit with a simple blink. She made him, after all. All his lies, all his trickery are — hers.

 

Ouma does not care when Harukawa lifts him by his throat. Shirogane does not even graze over it. Harukawa was much too afraid to kill Ouma, especially in front of everyone.

 

But God, she can feel the money piling up in her pockets as soon as Ouma is hoisted into mid-air; millions of viewers passionately praying for their favorites, putting in tons and tons of money say their irrelevant stance.

 

It's Shirogane’s story, not the viewers’. Certainly not the producers’.

 

Shirogane can tell how broken Harukawa is. She can hear the quiet heave of a sob in her throat while everybody is too busy looking at Ouma crumpled on the ground to care about her. But Shirogane cares. Harukawa is one of her most perfect, volatile creations to date.

 

\---

 

Shirogane times her walks to the millisecond. Partially to avoid any attempts at murder (it was written, but they were still human) and partially to intercept Momota, who shouts obscenities and coaxes in front of Harukawa’s dorm.

 

“Piss off,” Harukawa snarls, her door fully open. She almost seems to be guarding it; her arms flail around with more intensity than Shirogane ever thought was capable. “Look, Momota, I said I didn’t want to go, so please, just  _ leave me alone _ .” 

 

Momota shuts up, but just for a small second. “Sorry about that…” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was a fuckin’ asshole—”

 

“Yeah, so just  _ leave me alone _ .”

 

“‘—but you just seemed lonely,” he says guiltily. “And Saihara, too. Maybe being friends would help you guys? I don’t fuckin’ know this shit.”

 

Her stare softens, but her face tightens again. In the script that the producers had made, she would be utterly convinced by the compelling statement Momota had made, and join him; thus, solidifying the love arc that would have all viewers prying. 

 

But in the studio, Shirogane had vehemently denied; arguing the plot point was overdone and cheap. They had signed it off anyways; who would listen to someone as powerless as an interviewer? 

 

Shirogane tries her best to walk straight through the middle of the dormitory and be seen by only Harukawa. Any bit of distraction was what she needed to escape training… 

 

Harukawa’s eagle-eyed glare does not miss the blue-haired girl. “Look, I appreciate the offer,” Harukawa scrambles up her words, “but I offered to help Shirogane today.”

 

Momota’s eyes widen. “Shirogane?”

 

“She’s over there, you see?” She points directly at Shirogane, who, in fake fluster, jolts back. “I offered to help her model one of her… cosplays… because I had the… right body type…” she explains.

 

“Oh, really?” Momota only laughs in relief. He bounces down the stairs to Shirogane, and pats her on her shoulder. “Hey, hey, you! Make sure to take care of Harumaki, yeah? She says she’s all bad and dangerous, but I don’t believe it!”

 

“I  _ can _ hear that,” Harukawa snaps.

 

Shirogane only twists out of his touch. 201 was only a last minute choice; only implemented because no other contenders were interesting enough. He was only supposed to be a side piece, with an irrelevant love arc. “I’ll try my best!” she says through gritted teeth. 

 

Harukawa beckons Shirogane up, and she tiptoes up the stairs, careful to not disturb anybody sleeping, like how Momota did. Matching his eager wave with her own, Shirogane closes the door slowly.

 

She presses her back against the door and sighs. 

 

Time passes as Shirogane idly twirls her hair around her finger, intrigued by the warm coziness of Harukawa’s dorm, a contrast to both her appearance and personality. 

 

“You could’ve left earlier,” Harukawa says, breaking the silence. “Right when Momota went away.”

 

“I must have misjudged the time,” Shirogane breezes through the first question easily. Yet, she does not get up. 

 

“Why… why are you doing this?” Harukawa mumbles, and Shirogane can hear the crack of desperation hidden under layers in her voice. “You have nothing to gain from it,” she accuses, “so why are you always here?”

 

Shirogane’s eyes roll lazily around the room, before settling on the bed, where Harukawa lays down on her back, hugging a pillow to her stomach. “I—I— Plainly, I just wanted to help you,” Shirogane stammers, solidifying her demeanor, “you always seemed so… s—so lonely.”

 

“Would  _ you _ be lonely if you could kill anyone, at any minute, with all the experience in the world?”

  
  


“Um… I, personally, wouldn’t want to be…” Shirogane says, “but that is only my plain opinion.”

 

Harukawa opens her mouth, and then closes it. “And  _ my _ plain opinion is that I’d like to be alone,” she finalizes.

 

“Then why didn’t you tell me to leave?” Shirogane asks softly.

 

\---

 

The next night, Shirogane can see Harukawa outside with Saihara and Momota when she walks back from the library.

 

The pounding is her heart is of anticipation— nothing else.

 

\---

 

“A red-eyed, black-haired God?” she asks dreamily, embraced by Yonaga in a hug. “What a cool God I have watching over me!”

 

“Indeed!” Yonaga chirps. “Which is precisely why Tsumugi should join the student council.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Shirogane can see Harukawa’s face turn a twinge of pink, as if color was lightly airbrushed on her cheeks. 

 

It would only be a for a few days. Weighing the pros and cons…

 

Shirogane worships God in the place of Danganronpa. 

 

\---

 

After an invigorating trial, certainly the one with the biggest shock factor in Danganronpa history, Shirogane stands at the corner of the elevator, with her head down.

 

Yumeno was absolutely crushed. Gokuhara was sad, but that was expectant. And Kiibo was probably calculating the stakes of not worshipping God again.

 

But what would Shirogane do? 

 

No, what would  _ Tsumugi _ do?

 

\---

 

Harukawa continuously avoids Shirogane’s gaze, opting to look at Momota and Saihara instead. 

 

That’s why Shirogane is absolutely ecstatic when Ouma dies, crushed into literal pulp; his identity hidden by Momota’s purple jacket.  _ Tsumugi _ is able to clutch her chest and cry out in fear and anguish, pretending to be surprised by the blood that runs down the sides of the hydraulic press.

 

This time, it’s dried.

 

\---

 

Harukawa looks down at her hands and cries when the spaceship lands.

 

Shirogane throws her head back and cackles in relief; Ouma’s overly complex plan had worked. It might be the only time she’d tolerate Ouma— and he was dead. 

 

_ Tsumugi _ , yet again, lets false tears drip down her face, crying out. She covers her mouth with her hand as the body of Momota reveals itself as the shuttle’s entrance cranks up slowly.

 

Harukawa’s mouth drops, and, almost in animalistic fashion, rushes over.

 

_ Tsumugi _ follows behind her, and throws her arms around Harukawa, positioning herself between her and him. She doesn’t mind when Harukawa’s chin rests on her shoulder to look down at Momota’s body. Tsumugi doesn’t mind; she’s only a plain cosplayer, and Momota is ten times more important than she is.

 

“I l—loved him,” Harukawa sobs.

 

Shirogane uses her hands to grip Harukawa’s shoulders, her fingernails digging into her seifuku like talons. 

 

\---

 

Shirogane knocks on Harukawa’s door. She smoothes down her skirt and adjusts her blazer. She tosses her hair so it falls over her shoulders.

 

If Sasaki were here, he would have Harukawa twirled around his finger in no time, like how the producer suggested. When Akamatsu Kaede kills Saihara Shuuichi in an astonishing act of betrayal, Amami Rantarou would slide in to replace the protagonist role. That would popularize the members of Team Danganronpa further, and raise profits.

 

Thank God Shirogane was able to make some last-minute adjustments that Team Danganronpa would not dare to touch, or even realize it was there. Now that Sasaki was gone, the stage was all hers to manipulate and create the perfect replica of the very first Danganronpa. 

 

“Harukawa-san?” Shirogane asks softly. Almost hesitantly, she tries the doorknob— but for no particular reason. She already knows it would be unlocked. “May I come in?”

 

Shirogane hears sniffles from the other side of the door, yet there’s no other noises or attempts to respond. Feeling no harm, she casually waltzes inside. 

 

“If you want to kill me, just do it,” Harukawa chokes out, her head buried in her knees. “Mask it as a suicide and escape. Do whatever.”

 

Shirogane smiles gently, and stands in the doorway. “I would never do that. Or, plainly, even think of murder. We’re friends, right?”

 

“Were Amami and Akamatsu not friends?” Harukawa snarls. 

 

Shirogane freezes at the mention of Amami. “I suppose so… but, Harukawa-san, you have my word.”

 

“Momota’s still dead; everyone…” Harukawa seems to have trouble formulating a sentence, “everyone is still dead.” 

 

“I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.” Shirogane reassures.

 

She makes a promise that she certainly can’t keep.

 

\---

 

The final investigation, initiated by Saihara. But what use would that be, besides another tedious task? It wasn’t as if she could just allow him to leave once he figured out everything was fiction; no, to make the most despair-filled season, they _must_ die.

 

One of them, at least. 

 

The anticipation that so frequently pounds in her heart wishes it wouldn’t be Harukawa. 

 

\---

 

Shirogane makes sure to intercept Harukawa during the investigation. When she reaches the library, she sees Harukawa kicking the mastermind’s door.

 

“Harukawa-san, please don’t do that! What if you hurt yourself?” Shirogane cries out, as her grand entrance.

 

“Worth it, if I get the door open,” Harukawa mumbles, inspecting the card slot as if the door to the lair would open. 

 

“If brute force would get the door open, then Gonta-kun certainly could have opened it before you,” Shirogane theorizes, putting her hand to her chin.

 

“Whatever. It doesn’t hurt to try,” Harukawa grumbles. She abandons her post at the door, and works on diligently combing through the dusty leather covers of the books in the library.

 

“You wouldn’t have done this before,” Shirogane observes, inspecting the books on her side of the library. There would be nothing of importance at all; only Monokuma parodies of classics that she had made herself. 

 

Harukawa shoots back defensively, “what do you mean?”  

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Shirogane backpedals, opting to open a book — Monokuma Twain — and skims through it. “I just thought it was interesting. Harukawa-san, you’re such a kind person,” she gushes.

 

Shirogane sees Harukawa quickly turn around, her pigtails whipping back, and turn back. Shirogane sees pink on her cheeks, like when she had performed her God gimmick. “Th—That’s— I’ve killed people before, you know,” she stutters, playing with her pigtail.

 

“I believe you can change.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

Shirogane places the book back in the bookcase. She balls her hands into excited fists. “When we escape together, you’ll see! Like Sonic, soaring through the night—”

 

“Can I say s—something?” Harukawa interrupts. Face flushed, she turns around, facing Shirogane; she bites her thumb. 

 

Shirogane walks closer to Harukawa, trying to look as welcoming as possible. “Of course!” she affirms. 

 

Harukawa looks down. “I—I don’t know if I love,” she takes a shaky breath,  “M—Momota or not. I feel like I should, but… I—I really don’t know. H—He was never really there for me— but again, nobody really is. Except for you.”

 

“I’m honored,” Shirogane smiles, anticipation — and  _ only  _ anticipation, she reminds herself — bubbling in her chest. “But I, um, plainly don’t understand. What does this have to do with—”

 

“I think I love you,” Harukawa interrupts, her face as red as her uniform.

 

“Oh.” 

 

Tsumugi tries to deny it. It wasn’t real; Shirogane had made Harukawa herself, and, and—

 

Shirogane melts in Harukawa’s kiss.

 

\---

 

Shirogane squeezes Harukawa’s hand in the elevator, and offers a reassuring smile.

 

\---

 

Harukawa volunteers to be punished, and Shirogane feels her heart sink.

 

But love doesn’t stop Shirogane — no, she’s Enoshima Junko now, Shirogane is a nobody — from finishing Danganronpa.

 

She worships Danganronpa in place of Harukawa Maki.

**Author's Note:**

> very....... compelling....... ship..........................................................................
> 
> also i don't know any anime references so i had to go for sonic (which i don't know either)


End file.
